


What You Need to Do

by RandallsRedTie



Category: The Hour
Genre: Anger, Angst, Backstory, Break Up, Civil War, F/M, Hurt, Pregnancy, Spain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandallsRedTie/pseuds/RandallsRedTie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened in Spain? We'll never know (well maybe if there's a series three) So here's what I've come up with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Need to Do

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks eternal to the lovely [youalwaysfollowthehose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/youalwaysfollowthehose/pseuds/youalwaysfollowthehose) and to [TheCrazyGeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrazyGeek/pseuds/TheCrazyGeek) for beta-ing this for me ;)

Madrid, April 1938

   Randall’s feet felt leaden as he walked up the staircase back to the hotel room he and Lix had occupied for the past few weeks. They and several other reporters had come here after Seville had been overrun by Franco’s thugs. The trip had been long and exhausting and he and Lix had slept for two days after finally finding shelter. But none of that compared to the crushing weariness he felt now. In his right hand he carried a small paper bag with some food, in his left a telegram from England. Reaching the door to their room he knocked three times, quickly, so Lix would know it was him. After a few seconds he heard the bed creak, then Lix’s footfalls approaching, then the click as she slid the lock open. Randall walked in quickly as she opened the door, closing it behind him and locking it back. Thieves and worse were everywhere and they had to be on their guard constantly. He set the bag of food on the small table by the bed, then sat down on the edge of it with a weary sigh. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit up, breathed the smoke in deeply. He then leaned forward, rested his arms on his knees. Lix could tell something was wrong by the way he kept fiddling with the cigarette box so she came over and stood in front of him. She reached her hand out and gently lifted under his chin, tilted his head up so he was looking in her eyes. Her arms were crossed and rested on her belly, now grown quite heavy with their unborn child.  
   “What’s wrong Randall,” she asked softly, uncrossing her arms and ruffling a hand through his rich brown hair. When she managed to untangle her fingers from his thick hair he took her hand in his, kissed the back of it and pulled her closer to him. They’d been together nearly two years. It had taken half that time for Lix to completely break through his physical boundary issues. Once she had however he never seemed to want to be far from her. He rested his forehead on the swell of her belly, eyes closed, then turned and placed his left ear to her abdomen. He did this often, trying to hear their baby’s heart beating. Finally he spoke:  
   “Read the telegram.” Lix did as he said, taking the telegram from his hands. As she read he stayed very still, ear still pressed to her belly. She read the words stamped in harsh black ink. Then read them again. Then a third time, still not letting them sink in. They spelled out, in no uncertain terms, that Randall was to be sent to Taragona, in the north, where things were becoming quite interesting. Lix was to stay behind and capture photos of the freedom fighters in Madrid as they made their way to Salamanca. They were to be separated. When Lix finally spoke she was shaking.  
   “They can’t be serious. They can’t do this Randall. We‘re a team.”  
   “They can and they have. We‘re only a team when they want us to be,” he said, letting his voice reflect his anger at the letter.  
   “Well you must contact them and tell them no, that you and I stick together.”  
   “I’ve already done that. They won’t budge. They don’t know about the baby,” he said, placing his hand on Lix’s abdomen. She placed her hand, shaking, on top of his.  
   “Well if they did know about it they’d fire both of us and leave us here to fend for ourselves.”  
   “Indeed. Unless…”  
   “Unless what Randall?”  
   “Unless we were married,” he said very quietly, fiddling with his trousers with his free hand. “If you marry me then they have to let us stay together.”  
   “You can’t know that they’ll do that. Randall we’ve already talked about this. I love you but I simply can’t marry you, I can’t marry anyone.”  
   “Yes we talked about it and I backed down because it didn’t matter that much then. But Lix don’t you see. They’re going to split us up, send me halfway across the country. That’s where the story is for them, and so I have to go. And I want you…need you to be with me. I need to know you’re both safe. I want to be with you when our baby comes. You‘re going to need someone.” Randall had gotten up from the bed then, spurred into movement by his growing frustration and the compulsion to put some space between him and Lix.  
   “The answer is still no Randall. I’m sorry but it just is. I watched my mother be practically a servant to my father. I will not be that woman.”  
   “God Lix do you really think that’s what I want? That that’s the kind of man I am?”  
   “It’s how all men want their wives.”  
   “Not me,” he said with conviction.  
   “Maybe you don’t think so now but in time, in time you would Randall. You would want me to play housewife and stop working and I will not do it. Never.” Lix’s voice was growing angrier, her body starting to shake with rage. She would not let some man tie her down, force her to cook and clean for him, to have how ever many children he wanted and service him when he felt it necessary. Randall just glared at her, stunned at her abject stubbornness.  
   “If you won’t marry me now so that we can stay together, then maybe it’s best that we part Lix. After all when we eventually go back to England what would be waiting for us there? You pretending to have married some dead Spanish soldier? Who got you pregnant before he died? Me pretending this, us never happened?” Randall realized he was yelling now, fists balled at his sides.  
   “I’m not taking the baby back to England,” Lix said quietly. Randall looked stunned for a moment, then confused.  
   “So what? You’re going to stay here, raise our child in a war-torn, ravaged country?”  
   “No.”  
   “Then what Lix?”  
   “When the time comes I’ll take it somewhere safe and find a good family for him or her.” Randall’s face twisted into a mask of angry disbelief. He seemed at a loss for words but somehow, after a hard swallow found his voice. His stammer came out then, something he worked so hard to keep hidden.  
   “You c-c-cannot be serious Lix. It’s n-n-not safe here.”  
   “There are safe places still.”  
   “Maybe now but you can’t know they’ll be safe in a few months.”  
   “Well then I’ll just have to hope things turn out for the best.” Randall just stood, frozen, staring at her in disbelief. He wanted to scream at her, wanted to tell her what a fool she was being, how much he loved her and wanted her to stay with him. How he wanted to be there when their child arrived, see him or her for the first time, hold the infant in his arms. But he knew it would be of no use. When Lix Storm made up her mind it stayed made up. Tears of frustration were building in his eyes. He paced around the tiny room, moving the chair back where it belonged, then fussing with some of the papers on the tiny kitchen table. Lix just stood watching him, knowing what was coming, bracing herself from the storm he was about to unleash. When he dropped some of the papers he swore loudly then threw the rest against the wall. He then knew he wouldn’t be able to stop until he was satisfied, until the compulsions were sated. He picked up a tea cup and saucer and hurled it across the room, followed by an ashtray and several books, the sounds of the crashing items deafening in the small room. He began to grab whatever was closest, fingers fumbling blindly. A whisky glass, an empty bottle, all crashed against the wall as a result of his anger. When his hands found one of Lix’s prized cameras she finally shouted at him to stop, and he did, body shaking and breathing heavily. He placed the camera gently back on the table, shook his head at the missing lens cap. With an anguished sob he slumped to the floor, body heaving as he wept. Lix moved toward him to comfort him and he let her come, much as his body cried out to push her away. She had begun to cry too, hating seeing him so torn down, even if it were her own fault. She knelt down in front of him and pulled him tight to her. He could feel her belly pressing against his body as she held him. He buried his face in her shoulder as he cried, unable to stop. She stroked his hair as he let go, didn’t say a word, just held him as he broke. He balled her shirt in his fists, held on for dear life. After some time Lix began to speak, softly, trying to soothe the shattered man in her arms.  
   “I wish I could do this Randall. I really do. I wish I could be with you and raise our baby together but I just can’t. I need to be free, I can’t be tied down. No matter how much I might love a thing I can’t be tied to it forever. I’m so sorry.” And she was, truly, sorry. It was quite a while before Randall was able to answer.  
   “I wish that too Lix. I don’t know why you’re so afraid to give yourself to someone. I wish I could make you believe I would let you be my wife in the way you chose. I don’t think I’ll stay here much longer. It’ll hurt too much. They want me to leave as soon as it’s safe to travel. If I head out early tomorrow then I should be able to find safe passage north.”  
   “Yes. I think that‘s best for you,” was all she said.  
   The rest of the evening went by mostly in silence. They ate their meager dinner together (Randall giving her much more than her share) then bathed together out of  necessity, it being too much hassle to try and draw two hot baths. When it came time to go to bed they slept together. Lix fell asleep quickly, the day’s events and progressing pregnancy lending itself to exhaustion. Randall did not sleep. His mind wouldn’t shut down, kept whirring away. All he could think of was what would happen to their baby. Would he or she be safe? Would the family love him or her? Would Lix even be safe after he left? He hated that he wouldn’t be there to know. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make Lix change her mind. But he wished he could. He loved her completely, and he knew she loved him too and he wished to God or whoever would listen that it was enough. He rolled over and curled up behind her, cradling her body with his. He reached out his hand and placed it on her belly, waited to see if the baby was moving. After a few minutes a foot or hand rolled against his palm, then again a few minutes later. He closed his eyes, focusing all his attention on the sensation, locking away the memory forever.  
When dawn broke Randall got up, packed his necessary possessions and left, not before giving Lix a kiss on the cheek, then another kiss on her belly. She didn’t wake. Ever since becoming pregnant she’d become a sound sleeper. Only bombs and gunfire woke her now. Tears glittered in his eyes as he made his way out of the city. When Lix woke she was alone in a cold bed. Randall and his things were gone and the room felt utterly empty. The baby kicked against her rib, causing a short shock of pain.  
   “This hurts enough. I don’t need you making it worse alright,” she said aloud, rubbing a hand across the spot on her abdomen where the kick had occurred. Lix wondered to herself if it, if all of this, would ever stop hurting. A small letter was on the bedside table. Lix didn’t read it. Twenty years later it would remain unopened, locked away with the other mementos Lix kept from Spain. War wounds…


End file.
